Operation Red Book

"HY! HY! WHY..."

The weak murmurs floated in the void, buried by the whistle of the speeding train.

Ivy sat weakly in the corner of the carriage, her whole body trembling, two lines of tears flowing across her pale face and trembling mouth.

Next to her lay a fat man with thinning hair.

The man was leaning against the bed, and the entire carriage was covered with bloodstains.

His legs were stretched forward with one shoe lying across his feet, and the ground was covered with bloodstains from his struggle.

The corridor outside the carriage was filled with a pointing crowd of people dressed strangely, looking like people from the Victorian era.

"How is this going?"

"The Oriental killed the man..."

"This man is Viscount Dalton, I just met him last night!"

Ivy shrank her neck and raised her eyes cautiously, looking at the strange group of people who were whispering to each other.

"Oh my God! Look at his neck! That Oriental guy is a vampire!"

There was a cry of surprise from the crowd, and everyone looked at the man lying on the ground.

In the blink of an eye, people's faces turned purple and silence spread among the crowd.

The man's face was pale and there was a dagger stuck in his left chest.

His mouth was wide open, without a trace of blood, and his gray eyes looked ahead in horror.

Ivy instinctively followed everyone's gaze and looked at the man's neck:

There were two bloody holes, with the scarlet rotten flesh turned outward and the surrounding white skin wrinkled beyond recognition.

At one glance, you can seem to see the blood vessels and bones buried deep in the neck.

She felt an inexplicable chill and shivered unconsciously.

"Huff huff--woooo ...

The huge whistle of the steam train resounded through the sky, shaking off the dew on the green grass and also disturbing Ivy's increasingly panicked heart.

"Joshua? Where's Joshua?"

A gleam of light flashed in Ivy's eyes. She vaguely remembered that Joshua did grab her ankle when she was swept up in the classroom by ink.

Just as she was thinking this, some dissatisfaction was heard from the crowd, and a tall and thin boy pushed his way out from the crowd while apologizing.

It was flaxen curly hair, thick bangs and large black-framed glasses that almost took up most of the boy's face, and then there was the familiar black and white school uniform.

Ivy clearly saw the school emblem and beautiful Italian italics printed on the boy's shirt, and her desperate black eyes lit up visibly.

"Joshua..."

She choked and cried out in a trembling voice.

Joshua stared at Ivy in a daze, then looked at the bloody hole on the man's neck, and finally glanced at the blood-spattered carriage.

His lips trembled, he stuttered something nonsense he didn't even know what he was talking about, then he turned around and shouted to the crowd.

"Ivy, classmate Ivy, I, I, I, I killed him, I...Sherlock Holmes, help me!"

As for why he knew Holmes, that happened an hour ago.

As soon as Joshua came through, he fell in front of Holmes and Moriarty.

There were only three passengers in the dining car at the time, Joshua and two other English gentlemen.

"Sir, please tell me again how you got in."

The gentleman on the left spoke slowly, with a gentle and leisurely London accent.

The corners of his mouth curled up politely, and his deep blue eyes stared at Joshua's flaxen curly hair.

The gentleman had a neat and refreshing 3:7 short hair, and every golden hair was stuck smooth with hairspray.

Not only his hair, but also his eyebrows and eyelashes are as golden and shiny as his hair.

Joshua swallowed, rubbed his palms, and whispered, "I, I, I, I climbed in through the window over there."

The man in black on the right groaned impatiently, crushed his unfinished cigarette butt on the table, and said in a rough voice:

"Why don't you change your words, you little brat! I saw with my own eyes that you fell vertically from the top of the train and landed right in the middle of the corridor."

Unlike the elegant gentleman on the left, the man on the right squinted his brown eyes, frowned tightly, and looked at Joshua up and down with disgust, looking very unfriendly.

Two buttons of his collar were open, revealing his tanned skin and a shallow cleavage.

The man's black hair grew to his neck, and the sparse hair on his forehead fell on his two thick black eyebrows.

He crossed his legs, with his right arm casually resting on the red backrest, and his left hand holding a cigarette, which he would put in his mouth and puff out smoke from time to time.

"How did you appear out of nowhere? Tell me!"

He became more and more annoyed as he spoke, and slammed his hand on the table, which scared Joshua so much that he shuddered.

"Okay, Mr. Holmes, don't scare him. Just ask slowly..."

"James, you don't know, I've seen a lot of people like this..."

"Holmes? Holmes? Holmes!"

Having captured the key information, Joshua raised his head in astonishment, then slumped back in his chair in disbelief.

"Are you Holmes? Sherlock Holmes? The famous detective?"

"Ah - it's me. You're not crazy. You can still remember my famous name."

Holmes raised the corners of his mouth proudly, with his arms naturally spread out on the backrest, looking very proud.

"So are you John Watson?" Joshua asked tremblingly, pointing at the gentleman on the left.

"I'm James Moriarty, professor of mathematics at the University of London." Moriarty nodded slightly.

After hearing the two people's answers, Joshua was stunned in his seat and took a long time to recover.

Clearly, he was still wiping the podium in the bright classroom this morning.

Unexpectedly, in the blink of an eye, he fell on this retro steam train, and the whole process of the journey was seen by witnesses.

More importantly, they claimed to be Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty? Those two famous characters in detective novels?

Joshua is a fan of detective novels, and Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty are his idols.

They were observant, they were extremely smart, they competed with each other in wits and courage, and they were sitting neatly in front of Joshua. No one would believe it!

"I don't believe it. How could you be a living person?"

"How rude! How can you talk like that?" Holmes frowned even more tightly.

"I'm the one who doesn't believe you, right? Come on! Look carefully, this is clear evidence!"

Holmes took out a crumpled newspaper from his pocket. The headline on it read prominently: "Famous Detective Sherlock Holmes Successfully Solved a Bank Robbery."

But what attracted Joshua even more was the date of the report - January 1881, 1.

"Year 1881?"

Joshua pushed up his glasses and squinted to get a closer look.

"It's 1881!"

Moriarty nodded slightly, and Holmes snorted, snatched back the newspaper and put it back in his pocket.